I love you and Buddha, too.

(Not just God, but Jesus.)

Before meals at the kindergarten, the students pray.

“God bless our food. Amen.”

They have to say it with their hands together and their eyes closed. They all know they’re not allowed to touch their food until everyone has been served and those words have been said.

Sometimes the kindergarten teacher has the children say a longer prayer, blessing the hands of the person who prepared the food and thanking God for the nourishment the food will give their bodies. It’s hard for the kids to keep their eyes closed for so long, so their faces get all screwed up in concentration.

The kids also sing songs about God—not just God, but Jesus. Jesus and me and the Bible and all that stuff. One of the songs is super catchy:

“Oh Lord…I read and I pray…Oh Loooord, I read and I pray. Oh Lord…I read and I pray…In the Bible, I read and I pray.”

Then there’s a bit in Setswana and a dance; the kids know all the words and they clearly love singing it and showing off.

It’s really nice. Which is really weird.

Because I think I’m supposed to be a little appalled. I mean, who is protecting these orphans and vulnerable children from the religious beliefs of their teachers? What are the teachers telling the kids about Jesus behind closed doors? What are these children who have already experienced significant hardships being led to believe about punishment and reward?

Sure, the orphanage is a privately funded NGO (they may get some government funding—I’m not sure), but it’s not an explicitly religious place. I wonder if parents and caretakers might not expect (or desire) the religious education their preschoolers are receiving.

("We're All Friends And Sunshine And Kitty Cats")

Recently, I organized some of the educational videos we have. One morning, I popped in a seemingly harmless one called “We’re All Friends And Sunshine And Kitty Cats” or something like that, only to discover the second or third song in that it was evidently created by some American evangelical group with a clearly defined image of God/Jesus, a gendered system of values, and an agenda to spread the message to unsuspecting children. Plus all the kids in the video were white. It was weird.

But while I’m thinking “whoops” and getting up to switch to Barney or another PBS-sanctioned show, the other teachers are like, “Oh, this is lovely. Look at the costumes, and the dancing, and the message.”

So then it’s like, well okay, maybe I just have this visceral approach to a certain Christian element in the United States and that just has no meaning here. I don’t know that there is anything intrinsically harmful about little children singing about God. Unless your heart is made of stone or you’re Christopher Hitchens, that image is sort of peaceful and wholesome, right?

Or maybe I’m just okay with kids singing about the Bible and God in sort of neutral terms. But when they get into Jesus dying for your sins like they did on the video or even when Jewish preschoolers sing about Israel or the Messiah, I get the heebie jeebies.

I mean, that’s why what we do in America works, right? Like I don’t really care if the Ten Commandments are displayed in a courthouse, but that’s exactly why I personally don’t get to decide. Someone else might not care if kids sing about Jesus in public schools, but that's why they don't get to decide, either.

Still, I admire Botswana’s community-generated prayer system. When we got married at the magistrate’s court—definitely a government office—the day began with a prayer, but the prayer was led by whoever in the room wanted to lead it—not by the magistrate. Probably everyone in the room was Christian; I don’t know what would have happened if one of Botswana’s Muslims or Hindus had led the prayer. I’ll be interested to see how Botswana tackles religious diversity as their religious minorities grow.

In the meantime though, (and I'm not saying this should guide public policy) it almost seems petty to care if the song or the prayer or the video is about Jesus or not. Like who really cares if someone leading a prayer before the ceremony mentions Jesus or Allah or Visnu. I wonder if the next moment in religious pluralism will require that we be able to recognize the common human hopes and uncertainties that inhabit prayer. And even that we be able to pray if the words are not our own.

Figured I might as well jinx everything...

...just so I could tell you the happy update to my last post, which is that we found someone to fix the car for $200 instead of $300 and we found a buyer who will pay us in dollars.

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I should really have taken the combi to the orphanage this morning, but couldn't quite get up the energy--I'd have to take public transport and it's cold out there! I'm wearing a fleece and slippers! It's definitely a nice change to have cool afternoons instead of blazing hot, but the mornings are so chilly.

A is getting over a cold and now my throat is starting to hurt--I think it's best I just stay home and drink tea and apply for jobs. I'll go to the orphanage tomorrow when I can drive.

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Tonight we pack up our apartment and tomorrow we move to Penn housing. Which means tonight is our last night sleeping in this apartment. Ironically, while Penn has had awesome internet all year, suddenly it's gotten really slow the last month or so. So internet won't improve, but then again we leave in like...a week and a half. So who even cares about internet speed.

I can't believe I don't care about internet speed.

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A full update on our two seders coming soon. Time for tea and possibly matzah brie.

Two more countries to check off the list

After a couple of weeks of "real" life, we were ready to go on vacation again with some friends. First to arrive were J and M. J went to college with A; M is his lovely girlfriend. We had a great time showing them the iced coffee-related sites of Gabs, visiting the airport to see if their bags would ever arrive, and going to an actually really awesome comedy show that I will cover in another post. I did not take any pictures of them, because they are hideously ugly.


They left after one day to head to the Delta and then my sister E and her husband P got in a few hours later. We took them to Mokolodi to pet a cheetah, ate at Fego, and had a delightful brunch at Sanitas. We also went to our first rugby game! Could not follow the game for the life of me, but I enjoyed beer and sitting very much.


On Monday, the four of us headed up to Kasane, the base for visits Chobe Game Reserve. There we met up with A's college friends B, J, and J, which is when referring to people by their initials became overly complicated and was abandoned. We started our trip with a sunset safari by boat on the Chobe River. It was awesome! Probably one of our favorite activities this year.


Immediately, we understood why everyone says Chobe is the place to see animals. We saw tons of elephants, hippos, crocodiles, baboons, and more.


In the morning, we went on a game drive through the park and saw even more!





Later that day, we headed for the Zambian border. We took the ferry into Zambia (they are building a bridge, but currently trucks must travel one by one on the ferry, which is insane). It was pretty much immediately clear that Zambia is way more African than Botswana. People tried to sell us stuff, the currency was wildly inflated, our Motswana taxi driver warned us that the Zambians would try to rip us off, and in general there was a frenetic energy that is missing in Botswana.

Just when we became convinced that we were really in Southern Africa, we ended up at a restaurant called Fez Bar.


That naturally served Mexican food.


With our understanding of Zambian culture now firmly established, we headed for the falls!


Which were even more impressive when we zoomed out!


We hiked around the falls a bit, and got completely drenched. I seriously have never been so thoroughly soaked in my life. When the mist briefly cleared, we could glimpse the power of the falls. Luckily my sister's raincoat provided some protection for camera, passports, etc, but it took the rest of the trip for everything to dry. Which is partly why I did not take any photos of the Zimbabwe side.

We also hiked way way down to the river (and way way back up again) to see something called the Boiling Pot, a place where different streams of water meet to create an awesome-Lord of the Rings-type tempestuous whirlpool.

That night we started a nightly tradition of playing "Hats" also known as "Naked" which is a Charades-based game. It's great!


The following morning we headed into Zimbabwe for the day. We walked across the bridge to get there, and then hiked around the park on that side. The views were definitely better from the Zimbabwe side...but we still got drenched. Lesson learned.


Zimbabwe was full of tourists, all of whom were us. The tourism police, who apparently are not just people trying to rob you, followed us all around town, and literally wouldn't let us go anywhere without them. That's always a reassuring feeling.

The place seemed dead. But it didn't matter because we only had one place in mind--the distinguished, colonial, creepy Victoria Falls Hotel. We finished off our day in Zimbabwe with high tea and cocktails on the terrace of the hotel, overlooking the view of the bridge you see above.

On our last morning in Livingstone, we went on a walking tour with a guide from the Livingstone Museum. It was really nice to see the town and not just the falls. We asked him to show us the old synagogue, which still has a big Jewish star painted on it. We also bought fabric for a wedding project I'm working on because I've turned into one of those people who is obsessed with their wedding.


Back in Gabs, we FINALLY hiked Kgale Hill, the big hill in town, with the three boys from college. It was extremely hot and difficult, and we ended up hiking in the middle of one of the hottest days of the year. I don't want to exaggerate, but I nearly died. When we finally made it back down, we each drank an orange Fanta, which tasted exquisite. It literally took us all day to get back to normal, as I think we were all really overheated and dehydrated. Would definitely do this hike differently if we ever do it again! There were also giant baboons everywhere!

Saturday night we had a Setswana cooking lesson with our old housekeeper and ate dinner with her family and some of the dermatologists. If you want recipes for Zimbabwean/Setswana food, like spicy beans, spinach, porridge, dumplings, chakalaka, etc., let me know!


Sunday night we headed to jazz at the Gaborone Sun golf course with sister and brother-in-law. It's a fun time. We also went for a tour of the grounds, including a lovely playground where the kids worked off some steam.


On Monday I took E and P to see the orphanage and to get a tour of "downtown" Gaborone...and to eat at Nando's again. We ate at Nando's four times in a week. It was intense. 33 hours of travel later, they were safe and sound at home in LA. Meanwhile, J and B are still traveling (!) in Namibia and are meeting us in Capetown tomorrow. The adventure continues!

All in all, we had an amazing vacation. Traveling with 9 people is the way to go.

Awesome multicultural peace-making ethnic diversity Hanukah party from the future

(Our Hanukah display (clockwise from bottom left): sour cream, latkes, plates, applesauce, chocolate coin, cell phone, matches, Hanukah candles, tissues, giraffe bowl, red wine, hanukiah, dreidel, Shabbat candles.)

For the Hanukah party on Friday, S and I made latkes and sufganiyot from scratch--both were delicious, which was lucky because we didn't really know what we were doing.

(A recipe from Martha Stewart, who is of course known for her Jewish recipes.)

Most of the people at our Hanukah party had never been to a Hanukah party before. So I taught them a tiny bit about Hanukah and what we were doing and eating. When I do this, I feel myself falling a bit too easily into Jewish educator mode and it freaks me out a little.

(The first half of the night was an game of elimination to see who could stay upright with the entire apartment placed at an angle.)

I explained that Hanukah is a holiday about the Maccabees and eating things fried in oil.

(I considered setting the giraffe tapestry on fire, but then I remembered that's what you do on Passover.)

We lit the candles for the third night.

Then we lit Shabbat candles. I screwed up the melody and somehow ended up singing Kiddush. Hijinks!

(The three people who understood I was singing the wrong blessing got a real crack out of it.)

Then I spent most of the night trying to make sure our party didn't end up dividing itself along racial lines, which it inevitably did. A little. Oh well. Turns out Batswana people don't have parties where they sit around and talk. One of my Motswana friends complained that her throat hurt from talking so much and she had never talked this much before in her entire life. At Batswana parties, they just dance. (Actually, this is true. A and his coworkers had an end-of-the-year party for their research team and it also ended with everyone dancing.)

All the same, people stayed for hours and seemed to have a good time. It got pretty wild.

Not really. But it was fun.

Hanukah in Botswanukah

*I hate to think of the pun fines associated with a title like that.

Oddly enough, Hanukah is the first holiday where it's really feels like Hanukah! Yom Kippur felt like kind of a joke. Thanksgiving was weird. But Hanukah feels just right.

Maybe because Hanukah is never that big of a deal, and usually involves lighting candles, a couple presents, and one night of making latkes for friends. Check, check, and check.

I made us a hannukiah out of an egg carton and foil, and we brought Hanukah candles with us from the U.S. I also found gold coins in the grocery store--sure they have Santa printed on them, but beggars can't be choosers. We also brought dreidels. We're pretty much adorable.

Except for the fact that we have to make applesauce for latkes from scratch, Hanukah is just like Hanukah this year.

A photo is worth a thousand words but I'm going to add some words on anyway.

1) The lizard that lived in the window of the upstairs bathroom of the lovely, comfortable home of L and M, whom we had the good fortune to house-sit for last month. Hello, lizard!


2a) Can I make challah in Botswana?


2b) I can make challah in Botswana! (Actually, I also found it in the grocery store, labeled as kitka bread. Any ideas what "kitka" means?)


3) The Cool Time guava icee I bought at a soccer game. It looked sooo nice and cold but it stuck to my teeth and was rather gross.


4) For a country this hot, there is just no excuse for the crappy quality of the ice cream. Here, A eats some Milky Lane, which was OK. I would kill something small and defenseless for Pinkberry.


5) I found this book in the bookstore at Riverwalk and thought it was really funny. Templates for "challenging communications" like condolences when someone dies, firing someone, etc.

Five weird things.

My combi driver last week--I was alone on the combi--asked to be my friend.

"Sure!" I said.

"What's your phone number?"

"I don't have a phone yet," I lied.

"I want to be more than your friend. I want to be your best friend, your boyfriend."

"Oh. [Sigh.] I'm married."

"You don't want a Botswana boyfriend?"

"No." Pause. Start to feel bad + need to get where I'm going. "But...thanks."

Having determined he was not going to get what he wanted, he made me get off his combi and get on another one.

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My combi driver on Monday had a miniature Barbie doll hanging by the neck from his rearview mirror.

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On Monday, I came into work and found that the teacher had decided to play hip-hop music and have the 3, 4, and 5 year-olds walk sexily down the "catwalk" one at a time in front of the rest of the class.

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My Australian coworker tried to tell my Motswana coworker about the gay college student who killed himself.

"So he was having sex with another man..."

"[Gasp!]"

"Wait, that's not the bad part."

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At this past Saturday's soccer game, the Mochudi Chiefs played the Township Rollers, aka Palastina. A Palastina fan was carrying a sign that said "We are not Jews. We are not Mochudi tribe." Pretty mild, except it kinda implies that Mochudi sucks cause they're dirty Jews.

Books and food

On Thursday, we ate outdoors again, in celebration of the holiday of Sukkot. Okay actually it was a goodbye braai (Afrikaans for "barbeque") for a resident who is heading back to the States this weekend. There is quite an impressive grill at Pilane Court, where the other Penn visitors live. They also have an outdoor bar and patio. And a pool, though it's not as nice as ours.

While everyone else ate hamburgers, chicken, kebabs, and sausages, A and I enjoyed our sad little veggie burgers. Oh, I'm sure it's healthy for us to have an 8 month meat break, and actually they have decent veggie burgers here--a lot like Morningstar Farm--but I do miss meat. There was plenty to eat though: pasta with feta and basil, roasted potatoes, butternut squash, salad, cookies, and amazingly, rice krispie treats. All I care about is food, in case you were wondering if I care about anything else.

We talked to a new friend, D, who told us about his unlucky sister, who has been struck by lightning, gotten lost hiking alone on her honeymoon and spent the night in the wilderness while her new husband sent search and rescue after her, and when they got back home, their house had burned down. A has had some dramatic luck as well, but D's sister has had it much worse, which for whatever reason made me feel better.

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I accompanied L to a book sorting at a school west of here. The school auditorium was completely full of boxes of thousands of miscellaneous books, all mixed together, brought here by Books for Botswana. The arrangement was that if you came and helped sort books, you could take up to 400 for your organization. L and I sorted books for 4 or 5 different groups at onec, which is a Lot of books. It was pretty fun to sift through piles of books, and I was impressed at the quality. They had a lot of new books, as well as a lot of crappy books from the '70s about how to care for your spiritual self by eating more fiber.

One find was a compilation of the best of Tikkun Magazine from the past 20 years. A strange thing to run into a liberal Jewish publication in the middle of Southern Africa.

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L also took me to SOS Children's Village, an NGO I am hoping to work for. The children there are orphans and live with children of other ages in a family unit with mothers and aunts. They aren't allowed to be adopted once they enter SOS. It seems like a really neat and successful organization and they certainly seem to need volunteers in their school.

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Last night we had dinner at Moghul, rapidly becoming our favorite Indian restaurant (and our Indian friends think the food is good there, which makes it legit). Then A and I watched three hours of Veronica Mars season two.

Also N, our Indian roommate, is going to teach me how to make Indian food, and our housekeeper is going to teach me how to make Tswana food. So yeah, food is pretty much all I care about.

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I finally finished Norman Rush's 700-page novel Mortals today, which I have been reading on and off since May. So relieved to be done with it--read the NYTimes review to find out why.

Now I'm debating whether to finish Great Expectations on my Kindle or stick to the new idea I came up with which is to read only books by Africans or about Africa while we're here. What do you think?

We get around. Slowly.

Frequent commenter Julie Hilton Danan was wondering how we get around Gaborone. There are two ways.

a) By car. Eventually, we plan to buy our own car for the year. In the meantime, we rely on certain pre-approved drivers, whom we call when we need to go somewhere. Some of them have fun names, like "Mr. T." It costs about 25 pula to get anywhere. (Divide by 6 for dollars.) On Saturday nights it seems to be hard to get a car. There is also a combi (like a shared van) we can call if we have more than 4 people. There do seem to be some taxis, but they're not pre-approved! And I have no idea how to use the combi system so far (see photo above that I did not take). There are buses between cities, which I haven't taken yet.

b) By foot. Mostly, we walk places, which is complicated by the fact that we never know which direction to look when crossing the street (they drive on the left here), the roads make absolutely no sense, nobody knows the names of any streets, including the ones they live on, and there are rarely sidewalks. You basically walk on the right side of the road until a car comes, then you walk in the dirt on the side of the road. Also it's incredibly sunny, there are these trees with insane thorns (I will post a photo of these soon), and occasionally threatening dogs (not stray dogs, which would worry me more--people's pets).

A few people ride bikes in town and they do not recommend it.

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Tonight, we had the three medical students who are living at the other apartment building over for a Sukkot dinner. There was no space for a sukkah anywhere, but we said kiddush and motzi and "lashev b'sukkah" on the balcony and tried to figure out which stars the Southern Cross is. Then we came inside and ate. (Meanwhile, our housekeeper used my recipe for pizza to make her family pizza. It came out great and I was so glad!)

For the seven of us, I made hake with lemon and pepper, sweet potato chard gratin (replaced chard with mystery greens from grocery store--it was still really delicious--also subbed in cheddar and parmesan for gruyere), brown rice, a salad, and vanilla ice cream with this cake for dessert, greatly modified as I used pears instead of apples, couldn't find molasses, forgot to buy white sugar, and accidentally used double the butter. I also had no measuring cups or spoons, so in a way it was a Sukkot miracle that it was still a good dinner.

Of course there are Jews in Botswana

I keep comparing this experience to my year in England in my head--there are a lot of weird similarities. Like the fact that everyone speaks English but I still can't understand what they are saying.

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We spent Yom Kippur with the Jewish Community of Gaborone. It is a mix of South Africans and Israelis, who are mostly involved in the diamond trade or setting up cell-phone companies or industry. They live in beautiful houses, with lots of security and servants. (We only have ONE servant.)

Then there's us (me and A and P and another student, K), with our patchwork ethnic purses and comfortable sandals, looking kind of dirty, not wearing any jewelry. We are here to save the world! (Except for me.)

So it's a weird contrast, and people use words like "third world" and talk about how nothing works in Gaborone. We are much more euphemistic.

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The babka at the break fast we were invited to was amazing. Unfortunately, it's from Johannesburg and A has kind of banned me from ever going there. So I ate a lot of it while I could.

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After break fast, we couldn't get a driver to come pick us up to go see "Karate Kid" at Riverwalk, so we headed back over to our apartment and sat on the balcony eating crackers and processed gouda (it looks like American cheese but isn't) and drinking our favorite beers: Carling Black Label and Castle.

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Today at clinic, we literally had a ratio of 1:1 between volunteers and children. Talk about feeling useless. The volunteers were way better at the circle games.